Sleep to Dream
by Original Max A
Summary: "To die, to sleep - to sleep, perchance to dream." - William Shakespeare's Hamlet... As his body heals from his nearly fatal injuries, John sleeps and dreams of a conversation that just might heal his heart. This is a post "Devil's Share" fic and is Careese all the way.


Note: I would like to say that this is a strange fic. Please review and tell what you get from it. Did it confuse you? Is it interesting? I'm just going to let it speak for itself.

Sitting in the police station, waiting to be questioned, John couldn't remember the last time he was this sober. His body still reeked of alcohol from his thick matted beard all the way down to his toes. Apparently fighting thugs on a subway train and getting arrested was the perfect way to dry out. As the fog of alcohol lifted from his mind, he took more notice of the cops who were diligently working to keep law and order in the city of New York. John wondered how many of them had families. How many of those men and women had love and semblance of the life he had rejected? But he also wondered how many of them were killers like him? How many of those cops used the uniform as a shield to hide their dark sides? How many beat their wives, abused their children and dishonored their uniform by being criminals themselves?

The door creaked open and his eyes tracked the movement with casual, but exact awareness. A woman, wearing all black, stepped into the room. Judging from her gun and the stance she took when she entered the room, John assumed that she was a detective, ex-military based on the economy of her movement. She was a woman with a milk chocolate complexion and a curvaceous, but muscular build. She may not be able to kick his ass, but she looked like she could handle herself. He has always found strength a very attractive trait in a woman and this woman had it in spades. She crossed her arms and looked at him.

"Hi John," she said confidently.

John blinked.

"Carter," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Joss walked closer to him. Her walk, her smell, her eyes, her presence assaulted his senses as every encounter they had over the past 2 ½ years flashed across him mind. The last memory of her dying on the sidewalk nearly made him weep. He pushed the memory away and stared at the woman in front of him.

"How?" he asked.

Joss sat at the edge of the table and looked at him soberly, "Let's just say, you need me and I'm here."

"Am I dead?"

Joss shook her head, "No."

"Why?"

Joss leaned into him, letting her hair cascade across her shoulders.

"Because the world still needs you, John," she replied softly.

"I need you," he said in his soft, but steely tone of voice.

"I'm always here. You need to have faith in that," she replied.

John raised his eyebrows at her, "Faith, Carter. That's a tall order. Did your faith save you?"

Joss pushed herself off the table, "More times than I can count. Especially when a certain vigilante came into my life."

"Faith had nothing to do with it. It was Finch and the Machine."

Joss grabbed a folding chair from her behind her and spun in around to face John. She sat, bringing herself eyelevel with John's intense gaze.

"It wasn't Finch who saved my boy. And the Machine never gave me his word. The Machine doesn't call me to see how my day went and Finch doesn't go out of his way to make me feel safe," she finished.

"But I—" John started.

"Are not perfect. And you sure enough aren't god, as much as Finch likes to pretend he is," she interrupted.

Joss grabbed his hand and held in both of hers, "You and I both had some close calls. Something like this was going to happen sooner or later."

"I should have never gotten you involved with us," John stated under his breath.

Joss sat back in her chair, "Did you go on a one-person crusade to take down HR? Did you manipulate HR and Russians?"

"Carter, _my number_ was up."

Joss leaned into him again.

"My _time_ was up."

Joss began to get off the chair. Impulsively, John grabbed her arm.

"I can't lose you," he stated tearfully.

Joss reached down and touched his face, "Then don't forget me."

John leaned into her touch as she continued speaking and stroking his face, "Everything I am, everything we were, everything we could have been together. Don't forget."

John held her hand to his face and closed his eyes, "I'm so sorry."

She looked at him, "What are you apologizing for, John?"

"Everything," he said simply. She turned his hand over and squeezed it.

"I want you look at something," she said.

She walked over to the television on the wall. She turned it on and the screen showed the same interview room, except it was an exact replay of their first meeting.

"_I'm Carter," Joss said, "You didn't give us a name." _

"_It seems that the only time you need a name these days is when you're in trouble," John replied, "Am I in trouble?" _

"Tell me about this," Joss said, staring at the video.

John looked at it, "What is there to tell?"

Joss narrowed her eyes at him.

"You said I saved your life that day. How?" she pressed.

John looked down at himself, in his tattered clothes, shaggy beard and overall unkemptness that matched his appearance in the video.

"When you looked at me, all that time ago, what did you see?" he asked.

Joss's eyes went to the video and then turned to look at him up and down.

"Your eyes. They were haunted. I saw a life that scarred you, but hadn't beaten you yet. If it had, you wouldn't have fought those punks on train. I saw a man that could be saved," she finished.

Joss' voice came through the television speakers.

"_Making that transition can be hard. Some people need help. Do you need help?" _

"Something about you, Carter, put me at ease. You seemed like you could understand, like you could listen and hear me," John stared at her, "You were kind. Tough, but kind. By the time you met me, I was in the dark for so long, I didn't believe in anything. The government I had fought for betrayed me and the man who I thought would protect the woman I loved, destroyed her. If the government and people it protects are both corrupt and cruel, what is there to fight for? What was there to live for?"

John swirled the water in cup and then lifted his head to met Joss' eyes, "And then I met you. A solider still fighting the good fight. You showed me there still was a good fight."

Water gathered in Joss' eyes as she looked at him in disbelief, "We spoke for 3 minutes."

John slowly stood up, "And it changed my life."

John reached for Joss' face. She grasped his hand gently before he touched her.

"Not yet," she said softly.

"_Hello, Detective. Miss me?" said John's flirtatious voice over the speakers._

John's eyes snapped to the television that was still playing. He saw himself practically wink at Joss as he slid into her back seat.

"_You know, I always pictured you in the back of my car. In handcuffs," she stated. _

John looked at Joss, "That wasn't very nice."

Joss laughed, "Well, I couldn't very well tell you that 'The Man in the Suit' was getting under my skin now, could I?"

John tilted his head slightly, "Back then?"

"Always," she replied, "By the way, nice suit."

John looked down at himself and saw that his clothes had changed for his dirty, tattered attire to his now customary suit and clean-shaven face.

Joss reached up and touched his face, "Step 1."

"Joss…"

"John, you are not going to let my death ruin our hard work. You matter and I need you alive and at my side, like I have since we met."

"_You may not like me, Joss, but you're not alone," stated John's deep voice from the speakers. _

"You're not alone," Joss echoed. She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

John blinked his eyes open. The sunlight streamed into library and down onto his hospital bed. He still felt the ghost of Joss' lips on him. He was alive, hurting and oddly comforted. Joss was gone, but he would live on, fighting the good fight, for her. He could never forget. He could never go back to who he was. Joss has changed him, now and forever. Even from the grave, she saved him again.


End file.
